


A Dog’s Life

by Saucery



Series: Hartwin Stories [9]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Adorable, Alternate Universe - Animals, Angst and Humor, Animals, Crack, Cute, Devotion, Dogs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, Love, Loyalty, M/M, Master/Pet, POV Animal, Possessive Behavior, Puppies, Ridiculous, Scent Marking, Scenting, Scents & Smells, Sentimental, Slice of Life, Surreal, Sweet, There Is No Love Truer Than A Dog's, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 16:05:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3698453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/pseuds/Saucery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yes, Eggsy is a dog in this story. No, he doesn’t become a dog; he just <i>is</i> a dog. And Harry is his initially unwilling owner, who ends up being charmed by Eggsy despite himself.</p><p>Basically, this is a series of three interconnected ficlets, in which Eggsy-the-puppy progressively wins Harry’s heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dog’s Life

**Author's Note:**

> Dogs can understand English in this ’verse. They don’t have a very developed vocabulary, but they do get most words. THIS IS NOT UNREALISTIC IN ANY WAY. SHUT UP. :D
> 
> If you’re interested in cat!Harry, I’ve written that [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3676209).

* * *

 

Eggsy sat in his kennel, thumping his tail on the straw floor, as two pairs of giant human legs appeared outside the bars. The first of them smelled strangely cold and metallic, but the second—oh, the second smelled wonderful. Like woodsmoke and musk and fallen flowers, and just a hint of blood, like the human had been on the sort of hunt that Eggsy often dreamed of, when he slept. This human smelled of _adventure_.

Eggsy yipped, pressing his snout between the bars, just so he could be closer to that delicious scent.

“Well, this one clearly likes you,” said the metallic human, dryly.

“It’s a mongrel, Merlin,” said the woodsmoke-scented man. He didn’t seem very happy. “What breed is it?”

“It’s a puppy that was abandoned at a shelter. Probably a cross between a Golden Retriever and a…”

“And a what?”

“A German Shepherd?”

“You have no idea, do you?”

“Harry, you must adopt a new dog. As per the regulations, no agent is to go without a dog for more than six months after losing his or her previous companion.”

Harry? It was a name that sounded like Eggsy’s, at the very end!

“Companion,” Harry said, flatly.

“We aren’t permitted to have spouses, romantic partners or children. The Kingsman psychologists have determined that having a pet to take care of is crucial to the mental and emotional health of our agents.” Merlin sighed. “So, yes, companion. Our dogs are the only companions we have.”

“Mr. Pickles was a satisfactory companion. I don’t wish for another.”

“I understand that you’re still mourning for him, but the regulations—”

“Damn the regulations,” said Harry, and he was angry, and—

Eggsy whined.

“Look,” said Merlin, “you’ve scared him.”

“If he scares that easy, he’s better off being doted over by a grandmother who knits pastel-colored cardigans for him.”

Eggsy woofed indignantly. He hadn’t whined because he was scared. He’d whined because, underneath the anger, Harry had smelled _sad_ , and all Eggsy wanted to do was clamber all over Harry and lick his face until he laughed.

“Do you want Dr. Trammel breathing down your neck and insisting that you do double the mandated therapy time until you’re capable of having a dog, again? No? Then pick a puppy. It’s either this pup or the Afghan Hound I showed you, earlier.”

“At least she was elegant,” Harry said, and Eggsy’s ears drooped. He knew he wasn’t anything special, but he wasn’t that bad, was he? If only Harry gave him a chance, Eggsy would prove to him that he could be the best dog ever.

Eggsy wasn’t sure why he suddenly wanted to be Harry’s dog, but he didn’t think overmuch about what he wanted. Most dogs didn’t. He just _wanted_.

So he sat up straight, put on the most dignified expression he was capable of, and tried to peer coyly up at Harry through his lashes, like he imagined Cherie (the aloof Afghan Hound he’d met only once during playtime) would have done.

“She was also absolutely indifferent to you.”

“I’d rather she kept her distance. Nobody likes getting slobbered over.”

“You loved it when Mr. Pickles slobbered over you.” Merlin pushed his glass circles up his nose. “You just don’t want to admit you require intimacy with a living creature, not after you lost the last one you invested your emotions in to death.”

“With you psychoanalyzing me, who needs Dr. Trammel? Perhaps you should take his job.”

“Perhaps you should take this puppy.”

“Fine,” said Harry, evidently running out of patience. “If it’ll let me get back to work that actually _matters_ , instead of having me puttering around in the kennels like a desperate bachelor in search of a bride, then I’ll take the mutt.”

What!

Really? Really, really, really?

Eggsy jumped up and down, and the moment Merlin opened the cage, Eggsy leaped at Harry, getting up on his hind legs and placing his front paws on Harry’s thighs.

“He’s a _child_ ,” Harry said, despairingly.

“Yes,” said Merlin, gently. “Which is why you should be kind to him.”

“I’m never cruel to animals.”

“You do prefer being cruel to erring humans.”

“It’s their fault for erring.”

“And for existing in your general vicinity, I imagine.”

“What’s this lad’s name, then? Or do I have to name him, myself?”

“The shelter had him listed as ‘Eggsy,’ so you might simply continue calling him that.”

“Eggsy?” Harry said, incredulously. “What type of name is that?”

The best type! Eggsy had been given that name because he’d arrived at the shelter on Easter! (Whatever that was!) Eggsy was proud of it!

“You named your dog Mr. Pickles,” Merlin retorted.

Exactly!

Wait, what?

“Very well,” Harry surrendered, and when Merlin handed him a leash and a collar, he knelt before Eggsy.

Eggsy was so excited to be collared _by Harry_ —by his very own woodsmoke-and-blood human—that he ended up squirming eagerly in Harry’s lap.

“Stay. Still,” Harry said, voice hardening with command.

Oh. _Oh_. Okay. Eggsy could be still. Eggsy could be a good boy. Would Harry call him a good boy? Maybe Eggsy was a bit odd to thrill at being ordered, like that, but it also felt like being claimed, and he wanted to be claimed. He wanted, wanted, wanted to be claimed. A lot. A whole lot. A lot of a whole lot.

Harry finally got the collar on Eggsy, and the leash, and Eggsy was off, pulling against it, panting happily up at Harry.

“Come on, then,” said Harry, as Merlin regarded them with an almost-smile. “And stop grinning, Merlin.”

“I’m not grinning. Not like he is.”

Eggsy grinned even wider.

“God help me,” Harry muttered. “He’s incorrigible.”

Was incorrigible a nice thing? Eggsy could be very incorrigible! He’d be so incorrigible, Harry wouldn’t believe it!

“I suppose you’re mine,” Harry said, resignedly, and tugged on the leash.

Eggsy followed along, beaming. _I’m his_ , Eggsy thought, _and he’s mine. Mine. My human_.

 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Like my writing? Want updates and sneak previews? Follow me on [Tumblr](http://saucefactory.tumblr.com/)!


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